The phone line clicked through. “Gabby?”
“Hi, Mom.” She sighed after greeting the woman on the other end.
As it turned out, they were both frauds.
5
laura
“THEY REALLY GOTTA keep the air conditioner on when it’s sixty degrees outside?” Laura whined. The orange faux leather chair in the doctor’s examination room was smooth and cold, and she was shivering.
Brian fidgeted on the raised exam table. “I’ll warm you up,” he said with a grin, motioning for her.
Laura walked over to him, her boots clacking on the tile floor. She nestled into his arms, enjoying the heat emanating from his body. He hadn’t held her close like this since the accident; these days, he held his beer bottles more tightly than he did her. He even moved her hand away from his boxers when she started seductively exploring down there. But finally, he was holding her like he used to. Laura breathed in his musky scent. His hands moved up and down her body, from her shoulders to her thighs, warming her up with a friction that made her body go from frigid to hot in moments. He kissed her neck. She kissed his. She wanted to take him right there but knew she couldn’t. It made his touch all the more thrilling.
Knock, knock. The door handle turned slowly, and Laura quickly composed herself. She turned to see Dr. Carter, the LSU team doctor, smiling in her green scrubs and white lab coat.
“Hello,” she said, looking down at the clipboard with an embarrassed expression.
Laura, realizing the doctor had seen, turned bright red and returned to the orange chair.
Dr. Carter began examining Brian. “So, how’s the pain?” she asked chattily, palpating his knee.
“It’s fine,” Brian said shortly. “Am I going to be able to play again?”
Dr. Carter scribbled something in his chart and took a moment before looking up. “As you know, Brian, your injury was quite severe,” she said briskly. “You’re going to need surgery, but I just want to be up front about your expectations. We can repair some of your ligament damage so that you can walk again, but even with physical therapy, your knee won’t be strong enough to withstand stress—or sustain another major hit. It’s likely you won’t be able to play again.”
Laura’s gasp echoed throughout the quiet, sterile room. Brian remained silent.
“At this point, your options are very limited. There is one surgery that I would recommend, but it’s new and not widely practiced. I can refer you to a specialist in New Orleans and have him take a look. The surgeon has worked with some of the Saints players, and he’s very well regarded. Of course nothing is guaranteed, but it’s your only option if you want to play any kind of sport again. I called and he’s agreed to see you, but unfortunately he doesn’t take your insurance, so you’ll have to pay out of pocket.”
“Doesn’t the school need to pay?” Laura asked. So far, the school had covered all their costs because Brian had been hurt on the field.
“They would if the doctor was in network,” Dr. Carter explained. “But the surgery is experimental, and even if the doctor were in network, they might still refuse to cover it, especially since Brian has other options available to him.”
“Not playing again is not an option,” Brian said. “I don’t want some surgery that just helps me walk again—I want to play.”
Laura sat up in her chair. “How much would something like that cost?” she asked.
“A lot,” Dr. Carter said sympathetically. “My advice is to go for a consultation and learn more.” She turned back to Brian. “I know football is a big deal to you, but I want you to seriously weigh your decision before you leap into this surgery. There are a number of risks, both physically and financially.”
Brian’s gaze remained calm. “If I don’t do it, will I ever be able to play again?”
“Most likely not.” She pulled out her notepad and twisted her pen. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to do it.” He held his shoulders back, confident with his decision.
Laura knew the look of determination in Brian’s eyes. It was the same one he had worn when Toulouse High had been down a field goal against their toughest opponent, Port Arthur, during the last game of his high school career. She had cheered her heart out for him that night, and she had every intention of doing it again this time around.
Dr. Carter nodded and jotted down the contact info on a page from her notepad. “Good luck.” She bid them good-bye before walking out of the room.
Once she was gone, Brian hung his head. “I can’t believe this.”
“Hey, I’m feeling pretty optimistic,” Laura said, rubbing his arm encouragingly. “We’ll find a way to pay for the surgery, and everything will be fine. You’ll play again. You’ll see.”
He huffed as he stood, and he hobbled toward the door on his crutches. Laura looked down at her watch. “Do you want me to drop you off at your three o’clock class? You’ll be a little early, but at least you won’t have to walk all the way there on those things.”
“I’m not going,” Brian said flatly. He didn’t wait for her as he made his way to the car.
? ? ?
IT WAS A beautiful sunny fall day. Not that you could tell from the inside of Laura and Brian’s small on-campus apartment.
As she opened the front door, fresh from her morning shift at the Magnolia Coffee House, Laura sighed. Brian lay supine on the couch, watching ESPN in the dark. At least he was awake; over these past few weeks, he had pretty much been sleeping all day.
“Hey, baby,” she said, dropping a pile of mail on the kitchen counter. “What’d you do all morning?”
Silence.
“That cute old lady came in today,” Laura continued, opening the blinds. Sunlight streamed into the room, lighting a trail of dust motes. “You remember me talking about her—Mrs. Stratton? Well, she asked how you were doing. She read about the injury in the paper and told me she’s praying for your speedy recovery. Oh, and she gave me a fifty percent tip. I love that woman.”
Brian still hadn’t stirred from the couch. “Hey, babe?” he finally croaked. “Can you bring me another beer?”
Laura paused. Another? “It’s only eleven thirty. How many have you had?”
“Just one,” he said.
“Should you be drinking before your class today?” She walked over to him and put her hand on her hip.
He looked at her blankly. “Who cares?” he said with a shrug, letting out a burp that echoed through the apartment.
“Brian Hunter Landry, that’s disgusting.” Laura headed to the fridge and grabbed him a Natty Light. “My shitty salary isn’t going to support this drinking habit for long,” she added, handing it to him.
“I won two hundred bucks today on online poker,” he said opening the can. “I deserve to drink.”
Laura raised her head. “Really? That’s amazing! I didn’t even know you were playing.” Brian sat in silence for a minute. Uncle Bradley was on ESPN, talking about the upcoming Florida/Alabama game. A thought occurred to her. “How many times have you played before?”